The Bitter truth
by Diamond-Brit
Summary: What would you do if you had to care for your worst nightmare? One who is universally disliked? One weak stomached wizard is about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

_yay longer chapter. Don't own anything, all italic text are direct quotes from the books._

The night was dark, the red sky was casted over the hills, the clouds shielding a small building away from the world. The building was dull, bricks falling apart held only by a thin layer of cement. The garden a once lush, vibrant jungle, was now a dried out pile of broken branches and crumbled leaves. The building stood on a single story, the window nearly all caved in, and the overall look was very unpleasant. The inside wasn't doing any better, second hand furniture sat in the living room, coffee stains adoring the ugly fabric.

A long, awkward man sat on a wooden chair, the wood was broken and on its last life. His shoulders hunched over, long, boney fingers clasped a large class, the thick scent of butter-beer filled the air. Bottles piled around him, the tell tale signs of a man in distressed.  
He jumped, his hands slamming the glass onto the table, the sound echoing through the tiny home. He began to pace, hands running through his unkept hair, glasses slanted against his long nose.

"You have to tell them, you have to tell somebody, anybody." He muttered tugged restlessly on the hair stands, he glanced to the left his eyes locking onto a think metal door. "You can't just keep him there, he needs help, medical help." He groaned throwing himself against the sofa, his feet slamming the floor boards. "Wake up Jason, no ones gonna believe you, what are you gonna do? March up to the ministry of magic, a tell them you have him? Alive? Don't be ridiculous, you'll be sent away, thrown into the looney bin. No, you can't. You just can't."

A bang disturbed his train of thoughts his hand swinging in the direction of the door, he swallowed, his eyes began to twitch as his palms began to sweat. "Five-thirty already? Okay you can do this, just like last time, in and out no talking, no eye contact." He stood, gripped his wand and tugged towards the one thing separating them, he steadied his hand, gripping the wand tightly and turned the handle. No noise. He let out a sigh, quietly shutting the door behind him, his back never leaving the middle of the room. He crept forwards his hand shifting to the bag on the floor, reaching in he pulled out a vial, the thick liquid painting the glass. He, once again gulped and prepared himself, and with a quick step forwards, griped the arm before him, and without hesitation he pulled, shoving the potion down the man's throat, struggling to not gag.

When all the potion was gone, he stepped back, stumbling over the forgotten bag and slamming into the wall. His breathe coming in sharp gasps. "Okay done, you did it Jason, you've kept him alive...for now at-least." He closed his eyes, counted to ten and walked out the door, placing multiple spells against it, locking it so nothing could get in, nor out.  
"You're loosing it mate aren't you." Because would who really believe he was treating a death eater, someone who fought for evil, his own potions teacher?

He lay there bleeding, his throat tightening against the stain of the wound, his breathing was shallow, little air reaching his lungs, tears of anger, pain, agony and fear trickled down his wrinkled face. Images appeared before his eyes, all the people he had failed. Lilly her gorgeous eyes narrowed in distaste, "Look at you, wallowing in your own self pity, no wonder your father never loved you, who would your just a spineless coward. I trusted you, I trusted you to protect my baby, and what do you do? Fail, just like everything you've ever done, you're nothing not even worthy enough to be a wizard, because that's all that matters to you isn't it. Blood purity? You think my baby wasn't pure enough was that it? You death eater scum!" Her face faded as did her voice, but the damage was done, the hollow shell of a man curled inwards, shielding himself form the outside world, he knew it wasn't real, by his mind, after years of abuse scrummed to this, torturing himself.  
He wheezed, his vision slowly narrowing, black edges dancing around his eyes, beckoning him closer, closer towards the light. And then moving shadows.

"Professor?" The hesitant voice of Harry broke through the buzz, he turned his head, removing himself from his protective bubble, and gazed at the boy, the boy he had failed.  
"Potter..." He rasped cracking open his dried lips, blood oozing with every word. "_You have your mother's eyes"_ He interrupted the teens babbling, gazing at not the child but the mother who gave him hope, friendship, love. Tears began to leak, pouring rapidly down his face, "_take them...take them please_" he begged. And then nothing, the blackness covered his vision completely, and the beautiful sight of his love was lost.

#CRASH#

A large plank of wood fell to the side, the smoke dancing adoring the air, a young man stepped out from the darkness, his eyes skittering around every corner, his entire being on edge. "Okay...Merlin that was intense." He puffed his hands going to his heart, this man was unimportant, his only positive trait would be his quick response, as the war began, the man turned tail and ran into the forest, his wand hardly acting in anyway of a tool. He wasn't made for this, when he enter Hogwarts the sign in sheet, did not include in the fine print [may involve potential war] so he did what came naturally to him, he ran, he ran through the forest, through the screams and through the curse only managing to receive very basic injures.

The man coughed his hand flying to his lips as blood splattered, his feet shaking and his stomach twisting. He crept forwards, cautious of the debris scattered across the floor, he wasn't prepared to fall flat on his face, slamming into the floor. He scampered backwards, his wand pointed forwards, on the look out for any enemies...none emerged. He sighed, scooting backwards toward the window, however he stopped horror creeping up into his body as he can face to face with his nightmare...Professor Snape. His face was frozen, the tears stained his cheeks and the hollow look remained in his eyes, the young man breathed, his heart rate skyrocketing. "Death by snake bit" he exclaimed while looking over the corpus, "can you say irony or what?" The man's laughter was cut short, as a cough came from the body. "No...you're shitting me right? Hello guy with camera you can come out now!" But still as much as he protested he placed his fingers on the neck, and with a grim look felt the heartbeat..."Well shit"


	2. Chapter 2

"Harry please." Hermione begged as she sat behind plies of books, the thick binders shining in the candle light. Harry was pacing up and down the hall, his hands clenched around a rolled up parchment, his knuckles whitening with the strain.

"I can't Hermione! Just look at this!" He threw the parchment on the table, the paper knocking over the pitcher of water in the centre, humouring him, she picked up the parchment, unwound the tie and began to read. The headline immediately captured her eyes.

**_"Ironic magic: The death of a killer"_**  
_While there have been many traumatic deaths during the world wide wizard war, on death brought nothing but cheer to the hearts of all. One Severus Snape, was killed that horrific day, but not while fighting, no his death came at the hands of his 'master' in the most ironic and humorous way. The snake was killed by his own kind, a bite to the neck acted as the brutal knife ending the killers life. For years this 'wizard' has tortured, brutalised and attacked his students, following the ruling of his 'master'. But finally he was stopped, all thanks to Harr-._

Harry ripped the parchment from Hermione's before she could finish, throwing it to the floor and letting out a scream. "How in _Merlin's Beard,_ did she find out? How Hermione?" He sat beside her his shoulders heaving. By now the entire hall was staring at them, most with worry, their eyes widening as Harry became lost in the angst.

"Mate..." Ron began, sitting opposite them. "She's bloody mental, you know that. You can't listen to her." He consoled putting down his turkey leg. Harry lifted his head and glared over the edge of his glasses, "I know, I don't care Ron. I care about everyone else listening to her, she's got it wrong spreading this crap about him, when she doesn't know!" A sob broke free. "She wasn't there, she didn't see his memories Hermione, I did. I saw my father, the one I idolised, torture him, hurting him. I saw his only friend, the one person who knew him, turn against him and join the enemy. It's not fair Hermione, it's just not fair."

The hall was silent now, not even trying to pretend to not listen, the Gryffindor table had a tense air about it, they just sat there staring at their once strong leader, break down bearing his soul to everyone. No one moved, no one breathed, they just sat there in silence, questioning the teacher they lost.

"He's breaking down Albus, he's crying, yelling. I don't know how long he can cope." Professor McGonagall signed, as she buried her head between her hands, her greying hair pulled in a tight bun, small stands dancing between her eyes. A small thud brought her head up, her eyes widening at the devastating look upon Dumbledore's face.  
"I know Minerva, I know. I've messed up, I've taken a vibrant child and destroyed his faith in humanity."

"Which child are you referring to?" McGonagall whispered, her eyes drawn to the picture above the door, his greasy hair hid his pricing gaze, his cloak concealing the years of scars. "What do you mean?" She turned back towards him, her eyes shining with thick tears. "I know Albus, I know...I know everything you did to him, how you manipulated him, forced him to follow you without any questions. I know how you belittled him, shining your 'wonderful' Gryffindors while ignoring the 'snake'. I know...how you made him take the blame, made him become isolated, hated. I just wish I knew before...before I hurt him" She broke down, crying agonising tears, showing how deeply remorseful she was, it did little to help.

"Minerva" Dumbledore began, his eyes holding regret. "You think I wanted this? That I wanted my child to be so secluded that he doesn't even get the portrait honouring him? That we had to get a muggel to paint it, just so we had something to show how proud of him we are? No I never wanted this, I didn't think...I thought we could survive this, both of us. I thought he'd finally forgive me. Now I'll never see my child again."


End file.
